


They Say the Best Love is Insane

by shine_alive (orphan_account)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anxiety Disorder, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 14:05:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1390552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/shine_alive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Increasing madness pushes Harry and Draco into each other’s arms and beds, sparking a clandestine relationship born of fear and mutual comfort. However, when lingering factions of Dark wizards threaten the infant peace, their insanity and growing love place both their lives in danger. Hogwarts 8th Year AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	They Say the Best Love is Insane

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt** : [#13](http://hd-hurtfest.livejournal.com/2436.html?thread=6788#t6788) by 0idontknow0  
>  **Title:** They Say the Best Love is Insane  
>  **Author** : ???  
>  **Pairing(s)/Character(s)** : Harry/Draco  
>  **Disclaimer** : Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.  
>  **Rating** : NC-17  
>  **Warnings (Highlight to view)** :* See LJ Post *  
>  **Word Count** : 11k  
>  **Summary** : Increasing madness pushes Harry and Draco into each other’s arms and beds, sparking a clandestine relationship born of fear and mutual comfort. However, when lingering factions of Dark wizards threaten the infant peace, their insanity and growing love place both their lives in danger. Hogwarts 8th Year AU.  
>  **Author Notes** : Special thanks to sdk, without whom this fic would be far from the story it is today. Title from “What You Wanted” by OneRepublic. Portrayals of various mental illnesses are based on personal experience and not meant to be a “standard.”

“Potter! Fell asleep, did you?” 

Harry’s eyes flew open and he saw Professor Baines’ long face smiling down at him. The Transfiguration practical had started; at their usual table in the back of the room, Hermione already had her wand out. “Your classmates are working on their camouflage Transfigurations, come on now—”

“Sorry, Professor,” Harry replied hastily, jumping to his feet.

“Yes, yes, perhaps more sleep _at night_ will do the trick…” 

The new teacher was usually maddeningly ambiguous, but Harry knew that she pointedly referred to his latest habit of falling asleep during lectures. He never dozed off out of disrespect, but his sleepless nights inevitably caught up to him, particularly during Baines’ already confusing and incomprehensible lectures.

“Why didn’t it work?” Hermione fretted as they left the class, heading down the corridor in an academic rage with Harry and Ron behind her. “I don’t understand her at all! If this is on the N.E.W.T—”

“To be honest, Hermione, I don’t think we’re ever going to see this spell again,” said Harry.

“Honestly, I don’t care what marks I get on this N.E.W.T. anymore,” said Ron. “I mean, I can’t exactly go back to focusing on _classes_ right now. They’re just so…dull.”

“You’re right,” said Hermione, rolling her eyes when Harry and Ron gaped at her incredulously. “Even I know it’s true! Padma and Parvati are so lucky to be out of here already.”

“Yeah, how did they even learn anything last year?” wondered Ron. “Not to mention passing their…”

He trailed off. Harry looked up just in time to avoid bumping into Draco Malfoy’s too-thin frame as the latter trudged along the halls with his eyes on the ground. Startled, Draco looked up from behind white-blond hair, startled, before he muttered something inaudible and moved away.

“Loony Malfoy,” said Ron, chuckling. “Nice to see some things don’t change.”

“Ron, don’t say that.” Hermione looked over her shoulder at Draco’s hunched figure with pity. “He didn’t ask for it any more than we did.”

Harry cleared his throat, trying to change the subject. “Forget him. Ron, have you told Hermione about what George is working on?”

“Right, I haven’t!” Ron turned to Hermione. “George is finalizing his patent on an easy temporary charm that kids can cast on domestic magical creatures to make them do entertaining things. Dance, make jokes, you know—stuff like that.”

“On animals? That’s terrible,” she snapped. Ron looked slightly crestfallen, and she sighed. “I’ll admit, it’s clever if he’s making it from scratch. It’ll be popular with children.”

Ron beamed. “George is also designing serious products for the Ministry and private buyers, too. Even though it’s—well, it’s just him now, the shop’s so popular he’s thinking about expansion into Hogsmeade or… ”

Harry couldn’t hear anymore. He felt the familiar wave of swelling panic in his stomach rearing as he remembered George’s face twisted in pain…Fred on the floor, eyes closed as if he were sleeping…he wasn’t…Mrs. Weasley’s terrifying sobs as she held Ron tightly, not bearing to let go after what happened….

_It’s just him now._

Harry’s breaths became quick and shallow.

“Ron—Hermione—I’m.” He gestured vaguely in an upward direction, trying to keep his hands steady. “Bathroom.”

He hurried down the hall, up several flights of stairs, and down more corridors, footsteps echoing loudly and irregularly in the empty space. His stomach threatened to empty his breakfast onto his shirt. Panic surged in him and beads of cold sweat collected on his brow as his hands grasped at his own robes. He broke into a run, never slowing until he arrived in the empty boys’ bathroom near the dormitories.

“Stop, stop,” he moaned through clenched teeth as he pounded his fist against the wall by the sink. He could hear his heart beating too quickly in his ears. The echoes of his footsteps kept thudding until they came to a stop right behind him.

Harry whirled around and came face-to-face with Draco Malfoy. 

“You,” Harry snarled, grabbing the neck of Draco’s robes and slamming him against the wooden side of a stall, one hand gripping his bony shoulder with bruising force. “I’m going to kill you. Murderer.”

Draco said nothing.

“You shouldn’t have touched them!” Harry shouted, pulling out his wand from the folds of his robes and digging it into the side of Draco’s jaw. Draco grimaced but remained unresisting. “You fucking coward. Say something! SAY SOMETHING!”

Harry’s face, contorted with rage, leaned in so close that spittle from Harry’s lips landed on Draco’s face. Draco kept his silence even when Harry jabbed the point of his wand into the soft hollow between his jutting collarbones, forcing his head back.

For a long time, the only sounds in the bathroom were Harry’s frantic, heavy breathing and the soft drip of water from one of the faucets.

The feeling subsided after what felt like ages, leaving Harry limp and unpleasantly lucid. He quickly lowered his wand and Draco’s head came back forward again, his fingers rising to his throat to rub at the indent left in his skin. They stared at each other, and suddenly, Harry realized how very close, how very alone they were. He leaned in closer, seeing himself reflected in Draco’s eyes—

Draco coughed and cocked an eyebrow, looking down, and Harry saw that their bodies were still pressed together. 

“Sorry,” Harry apologized as he backed away hastily. “That—I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I followed you here,” said Draco.

“Yeah,” said Harry, remembering. “You did. Why?”

“I thought you might have problems. It looks like I’m right.”

“What?”

“I heard them talk, too. Granger and Weasley. I figured you might start reacting, because I know you’re going mad inside, too.”

Harry suddenly felt cold. “How did you—”

“I had the same thing two years ago. It’s exactly the same.” Draco turned away. “You get panicked. You’re still there, but your heart and stomach take over and you can’t control yourself, right? I know.”

“You can’t tell anyone,” said Harry gravely. “No one can know. That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Draco rolled his eyes and headed toward the door. “Yes, I’m likely to tell all your friends about your problems, because they’d believe me, right?”

“I’m serious.”

“I know.” Draco paused, turning back to Harry, who looked down with sudden self-consciousness as the eyes in Draco’s angular, almost gaunt face seemed to pierce him. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell.” He flung the door open and left, leaving Harry alone with his wand still on the dingy floor.

*~*~*

Harry was distracted for the rest of the evening. His quill lay still beside his half-finished Potions assignment. The rest of his classmates were scribbling away, though Ron appeared to be falling asleep. Harry sank back into the cushions of the couch, staring into the flickering flames of the fireplace.

The storage room on the third floor had been rebuilt into a common room for the eighth-year students, the adjacent room into two dormitories. According to McGonagall, because of decreased space availability in the dorms, the unprecedented class of eighth-years would have the “privilege” of separate housing. Harry suspected that, like most of her new decrees, the real reason was to protect the privacy of the more famous older students involved in the war.

Or, in Draco Malfoy’s case, the more infamous students.

Harry’s gaze flickered to the corner of the room, where the only Slytherin sat every night with his feet propped up on the wide windowsill and a book in his lap, as silent as the ornately decorated walls. The composition of the eighth-year students was overwhelmingly Gryffindor in numbers and in loyalty, and Draco sat in _de facto_ exile every night. No one spoke to him; no one wanted to associate with the student who, as rumour suggested, was verifiably crazy.

Draco looked up, eyes black in the darkness meeting Harry’s. Harry quickly ducked his head down and snatched up his quill.

After writing six more inches on the mechanisms of the Restoration Potion, Harry stood up and gathered his parchment and quill, yawning ostensibly and forming the most tired expression he could muster on his face.

“Early night, mate?” said Ron, looking up from his own assignment.

“Quidditch practice tomorrow morning,” said Harry. “I don’t want to fall asleep on my broom again.” 

He retreated to the boys’ dormitory after a soft round of “Good night”s and stripped off his clothing quickly, slipping into his pajamas and placing his glasses and wand on the bedside table. He crawled under the covers of his bed and shut his eyes, trying to become still.

_Sleep._

For a long time, he tried to shut out the sounds of eight other boys shuffling into the dorm room and muttering quietly to each other before falling asleep and dwindling into snuffling snores. He tried to clear his mind, only to find his thoughts speeding up the more he suppressed them

He began to doze off, but in his dreamlike state, he needed to find something that he knew nothing about…he looked over his shoulder, and he was falling…tears streamed down his face, but he didn’t know why…

Harry sat up abruptly, feeling cold beads of sweat on his forehead and the small of his back. He squeezed his eyes shut. “God, why,” he whimpered.

When he opened them again, he saw Draco Malfoy from the other end of the room, leaning against his own bed’s headboard and watching him. Harry looked away immediately, unwilling to meet Draco’s eyes.

“Can’t sleep?”

Harry’s fingers clenched in his sheets. “No.”

“Come here.”

“Me?” asked Harry. “You want me to…”

“Come here, yes.”

Harry wasn’t sure if he wanted to, but he clambered out of bed anyway and went over to Draco, bare feet pitter-pattering on the floor. Draco shifted over to the right side of his narrow bed, making room for Harry, who stared.

“Why?”

Draco smiled thinly. “Don’t you want to?”

Harry took a step forward. When his knees hit the bed, Draco pulled hard. Harry fell onto his bed ungracefully, his face warm with embarrassment.

“That’s better,” Draco whispered. His hand, his long slender fingers, gently tugged at Harry’s limbs until Harry straddled him. He propped himself up with one arm and leaned forward…

The kiss was wet, though pleasantly so. Draco smelled like soap and something warm yet refined that had Harry breathing deeply through his nose even as his mouth was occupied. Kissing Draco was nothing like kissing Ginny, whose lips and mouth had fought his even in the most intimate of moments. It was nothing like kissing Cho, whose lips, though pliant, had always remained closed. Draco’s lips were cool and a little bit dry, slightly parted, almost dispassionate but so very present and steady and real.

A shiver started at the base of Harry’s spine and worked its way through his body. He pressed himself closer against Draco, not sure what he wanted but knowing precisely how to get it. Draco’s breaths tickled his skin as their mouths moved together. Only when Draco’s hand reached under the front of Harry’s nightshirt did Harry pull back.

“We can’t do stuff like this here,” he protested. “What about the others?”

Draco grabbed his wand from his bedside table. With a wave, he shut the curtains on the side of his bed that faced the rest of the room. “ _Muffliato_ ,” he murmured.

Harry stared at Draco, who carefully set his wand back on the table. “No one taught that spell,” said Harry. “Where did you learn it?”

“Snape,” Draco finished. “You’re not the only one who knew the Half-Blood Prince.”

“Snape,” said Harry.

_Snape._

Snape’s severe face etched with unforgiving lines…snapping out judgments against his father and “Mudblood” to his mother…Snape as he slumped, blood everywhere, just another victim…

_Snape._

“Harry, look at me.” 

Harry found himself slumped against Draco, gasping again. The panic was returning, weakening his breaths. His entire body tensed like a hunted animal’s.

“Snape isn’t here anymore,” Draco said firmly, his voice hard as he carefully placed his hands on Harry’s hips. “But we are. We’re still here.”

Slowly, under Draco’s touch and another rather insistent kiss, Harry felt the knot in his stomach loosen itself, though it didn’t disappear. He let Draco take off his pajamas this time.

“I’ve never—”

“I know you haven’t,” Draco said, shifting and rolling Harry onto his back on the bed. “Just relax.”

Harry tried to relax. A physician at St. Mungo’s had responded to his—anonymous—letter with a long and largely useless reply, but had recommended methods of keeping calm, such as counting slowly and calmly. He began counting from one. He heard the rustling of cloth against skin around three…pants hitting the ground at nine…a dip in the bed again at fifteen.

At twenty-one, Harry felt Draco’s body against his own, their naked chests pressed together, Draco’s prick hard against his thigh. Harry’s eyes remained closed. He felt Draco’s lips press softly against the side of his jaw and glide upwards slowly until they were moving against Harry’s own. He opened his mouth and gave up control of the kiss to Draco. 

After that, he could no longer keep his mind on the numbers, which had been useless anyway, because underneath Draco, Harry felt safe, and his heart did not thump terribly loudly anymore.

Draco finally pulled away. He felt the comfort and heat of Draco’s body slide downward like a warm blanket peeled from his body and heard a spitting sound soon after. A small gasp escaped his lips when Draco’s slickened hand wrapped around his erection and gave it a few strokes.

“Does that feel good?” asked Draco.

“Yes,” Harry sighed. “Don’t—don’t stop.”

He didn’t. Draco’s hand remained steady and Harry tried so hard not to thrust in his grip. The tension in his stomach coiled tighter and tighter as Draco’s skilful fingers alternated between rolling across the tip of his cock and sliding down the length. He remained gentle while still giving Harry the touch and attention he craved. When Harry began to pant and his hips inevitably started stuttering upward, Draco’s firm fingers held him still.

It was soon over; Harry came on Draco’s stilled hand and his own stomach, the numbing ecstasy of his release arresting every nerve in his body. His breaths were loud to his own ears, but controlling their volume was the last thing Harry could think about as his mind went blissfully blank with his climax.

“Open your eyes,” Draco commanded after Harry caught his breath.

Harry obeyed. He saw Draco straddling his hips, one hand slick with Harry’s come flying over his own hard, straining cock. Draco’s eyes slid shut as he threw his head back, presenting Harry with a dim view of the column of his graceful neck. He also came quickly, groaning as his release landed on Harry’s stomach too. Harry had the absurd urge to dip his fingers in their mingled fluids, to taste them in his mouth, but refrained from doing so when Draco sighed in satisfaction and leaned forward again.

Gingerly, Harry shifted to one side of the bed and Draco collapsed onto the other, his breaths still coming quickly and shallowly. “Better?” he asked.

“Better,” said Harry.

They stayed silent for a few moments, their breaths the only sounds in the small space, until Harry coughed. “Do you have a towel—or something of the sort, I need to clean—”

Draco reached for his wand again and pointed it at Harry’s abdomen. “ _Tergeo_ ,” he said. The mess vanished. He held his own hand up to his lips and Harry watched, fascinated, as Draco cleaned the last few drops of Harry’s come from his hand with his tongue. “Don’t need a towel. You’re got magic, Harry, use it.”

“Since when were we on a first-name basis?”

“Since we just…since a few minutes ago?”

“Right.”

Draco shifted on his side of the bed, and Harry was sure Draco was staring at him. “Do you want to talk?”

Harry turned away, signalling his reluctance.

“Why can’t you sleep?”

“You don’t get it,” he muttered, irritated. “The war. It’s never finished. It’s still going on in my mind. I _am_ going mad because I keep seeing dead people everywhere. And Voldemort—he’s always here, too. I only ever dream about the next Horcrux—there’s always more. I can’t even run away because it’s all in my mind…”

He could not stop talking. At one point, he felt wetness on his cheeks and could not control the shaking in his shoulders. He felt Draco shift again, and his arms wrapped around him, holding him close. He relaxed into his touch.

Eventually, his words ran together in a soft mumble and dwindled into silence. Draco didn’t move or speak, but kept holding him and softly stroking his shoulder with the tips of his fingers.

Harry closed his eyes, feeling tired in a way that he hadn’t for a long time.

A soft shake woke him. “Go back to your own bed,” muttered Draco. “In case in the morning…”

He didn’t have to finish the sentence. “Right,” Harry said, yawning. He stumbled out from under the covers and collected his clothes. He avoided Draco’s gaze. “Good night.”

Harry stepped into his pajamas before toppling over into his own bed. He fell asleep within moments, his usual erratic gasps evening out into soft, regular breaths.

It was the best night of sleep he’d had in weeks.

*~*~*

When Harry woke early for Quidditch practice, he found Draco still asleep. Despite the early hour, Harry was a in a better mood than usual. Memories of the night before occupied his thoughts and kept the usual clouds of worry and inexplicable fear at bay.

That night in the common room, the students were abuzz with the news that the relatives of a Slytherin sixth-year—whose parents were in Azkaban—withdrew him from Hogwarts for dating Demelza Robins, the Gryffindor seeker. While news rife with the remains of conflict like this generally turned Harry’s stomach and made him sick, he found himself strangely detached from the whole affair. 

Draco’s voice echoed in his mind: _We’re still here._ Harry smiled to himself and threw a glance over his shoulder at the Slytherin boy in the corner of the room, whose eyes were already fixed on him.

 _Later_ , Draco mouthed. Harry nodded, trying not to appear giddy. 

Anticipation, not fear, kept him awake this time. He feigned sleep until deep sleepy breaths filled the air, at which point he crept across the room. Draco appeared to be sleeping and Harry’s heart sank, but his eyes flew open when a floorboard creaked under Harry’s weight and he smiled.

“Can I?” Harry asked, swallowing as he edged closer.

“Yes,” Draco replied unhesitatingly, offering a small smile as he made room for Harry.

Harry lowered himself onto the bed while Draco set up charms to conceal them again. They kissed until Harry’s breathing became fast and shallow and he could feel Draco’s length against his thigh. Draco’s hands glided up and down Harry’s torso with nuanced expertise that quickly brought him to hardness as well. Harry didn’t know how much experience Draco had had with others, nor did he want to.

This time, Draco rolled Harry onto his hands and knees on the bed. Harry heard the cap of a bottle pop open and felt Draco’s hands spread his legs and cheeks wide open. Cool slippery fingers prodded at his entrance. He felt himself slowly growing hard, not because Draco’s fingers inside his arse felt particularly good, but because the care and meticulousness of Draco’s actions brought back the tingling sensation that had felt so nice last night.

“Is this okay?” Draco asked.

“I—I think so,” said Harry, still trying to adjust to the sensation. “Yes. It’s good.”

Draco withdrew his fingers and his hands gripped Harry’s hips firmly. Slowly, the tip of his cock pressed into him.

The intrusion was uncomfortable for Harry—Draco’s fingers had not nearly been thick enough, and the insistent friction against the sensitive skin of his entrance had Harry biting on his lower lip in order not to whimper in pain. But as Draco withdrew and thrust again, sighing in pleasure while building up a steady rhythm, Harry thought that the vague feeling of being torn apart was a fair price to pay for having Draco moving inside him and taking pleasure from him.

Harry let out a small sigh of satisfaction as Draco’s hand moved up to touch his hard prick in a very considerate and pleasurable gesture that rekindled the smouldering burn of desire and need in his groin. In the build-up of his pleasure, time was marked only by Draco’s distinct thrusts and Harry’s barely-contained moans as the tightness in his belly grew and grew. Finally, Draco hissed as he slammed into Harry one last time and came inside him, his hand still moving up and down and teasing Harry’s cock until he also let out a raspy breath and came on the sheets. 

His orgasm didn’t just feel good; it felt relieving, knowing that Draco knew, knowing that Draco cared.

Draco’s arm remained draped over Harry as he fell onto the bed, limp and sated. Its weight comforted and relaxed him. He leaned back into Draco’s body and didn’t move while Draco murmured the charms to clean Harry off again, turning to face him when he finished. Draco leaned in to kiss him again. His lips didn’t taste like much, but the warm and clean scent of his body drew Harry closer.

“Mm,” Draco hummed when they broke apart. “How’s Ginny, by the way?”

Harry didn’t know whether to laugh or to yell. Perhaps Draco had not changed so much after all from the insufferable brat he’d once known. “What? You insensitive arse,” he muttered.

“I’m not exactly privy to the latest gossip these days,” said Draco, his fingers trailing down Harry’s hip and stopping at a rough patch of skin just beneath his pelvic bone, on the inside of his thigh. He paused. “What’s this?”

“I fell.”

“Potter, I’m serious.”

“So am I,” said Harry sharply. “When Voldemort cast the Killing Curse, I was knocked off my feet pretty hard. There are lots of rocks in the Forbidden Forest.”

Draco was silent for a while, his fingers on Harry’s skin and the steady rise and fall of his chest the only indications of his presence.

“A brave moment on your part that I missed, I’m afraid.”

“It wasn’t brave,” Harry snapped. “That was the problem with Ginny, if you want to know so badly. I told her I had nightmares, I told her I was afraid, and she told me I had a bloody hero complex!”

Draco waited until his shouting ended. “I was joking,” he said.

“It wasn’t very funny.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll work on that. Look at me, Harry.”

Reluctantly, Harry looked up.

“No one who’s been so close to Voldemort can have a ‘hero complex.’ He’s hurt us. He’s still keeping us pathetically afraid—for how long? Who knows?” His eyes were flinty, but they softened the longer he looked into Harry’s eyes.

“You’re pathetic.” He kissed him again. “But you’re not alone.”

*~*~*

Sometimes they didn’t shag or touch each other in ways that made them writhe and moan. Sometimes they just kissed, and sometimes in Harry’s bed. Harry thought Draco was a wonderful kisser. He had learned a series of Disillusionment charms that would conceal Draco’s presence from anyone else who might come near his bed, so they took to falling asleep together as well.

Sometimes they talked for hours. Harry told Draco about what he’d seen in the forest with the Resurrection Stone and Draco told him about waking up to the resounding laughs of a madman in his own home.

Draco sometimes kissed Harry’s scars, traced them with his tongue. It was exhilarating when he did; no one else had ever wanted to see them in their ugly bumpy whitish glory. Draco understood that those scars were part and parcel of Harry’s self and made them feel beautiful. Harry, too, liked to feel Draco’s chest for the long scar that had never fully healed. Injuries from Dark magic never truly healed.

“I did this,” said Harry. Draco hummed noncommittally.

Many weeks passed in this comfortable arrangement until one day, Draco backed a terrified Anthony Goldstein into a corner in the hallway with his wand up and ready. “Don’t hurt her,” he mumbled almost fearfully, in contrast to his threatening stance. He gestured toward the nearest person, Rionach O’Neal, who froze in place. “It wasn’t Father. It was Macnair’s. Don’t. Look, she’s almost dead—it wasn’t our fault—”

“ _Expelliarmus_!” shouted Seamus, who had just rounded the corner. Draco turned, wandless and almost confused, as if coming out of a stupor, unresisting as Filch and Professor Sinistra hurried onto the scene and bore him away. “Your father’s in Azkaban!” yelled Seamus at Draco’s retreating form. “Pity you’re not with him!”

Harry, who had only rushed into the corridor in time to hear Seamus’ last few words, turned to Rionach as the small crowd of students broke up in furious whispers, heading to their classes. “What’s going on?” he demanded.

“I—I don’t know,” she stammered. “Malfoy suddenly raised his wand at Anthony and asked him not to hurt me and said I was almost dead? I’m not sure. And then Seamus came and, well.”

“I see,” he said. “Typical Seamus, of course.” 

“Yeah,” said Rionach, laughing nervously as she left. When he was sure no one was looking, Harry bent to pick Draco’s wand up from the ground.

That night, he found Draco curled up in his bed, eyes wide, his body rigid and tense.

“I thought it had gone away.” He shuddered when Harry slipped under the covers to hold him and cast Disillusionment charms with Draco’s wand, placing it next to his pillow when he finished. “No, I can’t do it tonight.”

“Will you let me?” asked Harry quietly.

“Please,” Draco whispered.

Harry tried to do everything Draco always went through with him. He grabbed the small bottle of lube from under the bed and slicked up his fingers, working them one, two, three into Draco, opening and stretching him, his other hand stroking Draco’s length and feeling him grow hard. When Harry finally withdrew his fingers, Draco rolled over to rest on his face and knees on the bed, still shivering while Harry slicked his own prick with lube.

Harry slowly pressed into Draco, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt himself enter the snug warmth of Draco’s body. It felt so different than being taken, drawing high-pitched pleas and gasps from Draco as he pushed back in over and over again. His hands grabbed on to Draco’s slim hips and began to rock Draco back against him as he thrust forward.

“Is this okay?” he asked quietly, bending to press a kiss against the blade of Draco’s left shoulder.

“It’s so good,” Draco sighed. “Don’t stop.”

“I won’t.” Harry slammed harder and faster into Draco, whose fingers desperately grabbed at the sheets on the bed. He could not keep the groans from spilling from his lips as he quickened his pace, his pelvis bruising Draco’s arse cheeks. Using one hand to support himself, he moved his other hand to Draco’s front and stroked his prick, revelling in the sounds of raw, uncontrolled pleasure coming from Draco.

He finished with a bruising thrust, coming deep inside Draco with his head thrown back, a deep moan emanating from deep within his chest.

Afterward, he sucked Draco off, wrapping his lips around his cock and taking it deep into his throat, teasing it and swirling his tongue around the tip until he came down his throat with a strangled moan. While Draco lay spent and limp, Harry cleaned the mess with his wand and sank back into bed, one hand resting on Draco’s waist and caressing his side gently.

“I need to show you something,” said Draco quietly.

“Show me, then,” said Harry.

Draco slipped out of bed and cast a wandless _Lumos_ before rummaging in his trunk, shoving around things that clattered and clunked. Harry hunched next to him, one bare arm around Draco’s naked shoulders. Finally Draco took out a small package of letters and placed it in Harry’s hands. 

“These.”

Harry untied the strings and glanced through several pages of parchment. The letters were all brief and addressed to Draco, from “N. Armistead.”

“What’s this all about?” asked Harry, peering at the rows of text. “Dark activity? Existing danger?” He glanced at Draco, suddenly seized with a cold grip of fear and mistrust.

“It’s not like that!” said Draco quickly. “Noah Armistead is my distant uncle.” He grabbed the packet of letters from Harry and pulled out a square piece of vellum, which he unfolded to its full size. “He didn’t fight in the war and he’s old, but he’s a scientist of sorts, and he’s developed a way to track Dark activity. Look.”

Ink lines darkened the fibres of the vellum, twisting and turning across the surface until Harry could clearly make out an unlabelled map of Europe with crisp national borders and black dots scattered about.

“He sent me this before term began. His map covers an entire room,” explained Draco. “The dots are Dark wizards. If they pulse, they’re using Dark magic right now.” He pointed at a pulsing dot in London. “Probably Knockturn Alley.” His finger moved to erratically appearing and disappearing dots in Denmark. “The Ministry’s chasing them. The _Prophet_ will have it all tomorrow.”

“Why would he make this?” asked Harry. He reached out to touch a pulsing point, feeling nothing but cool dry fibres under his fingers.

“He’s been developing this for over twenty years in his spare time,” Draco said. “It’s his secret. He finished it just days before the battle, and he’s been using it to collect data on Dark activity now, and to protect me.”

“Protect you?”

Draco flipped through several more letters. “Armistead thinks there’s still more resistance,” he said, holding up a photograph of a larger world map on vellum skewed horizontally. “This is his map. He occasionally takes time-lapse photos and gives them to me.” 

Draco’s slender finger moved east on the photograph, and Harry’s eyes followed. “There’s smudges of black in Asia,” he observed when Draco’s fingertip stopped in the middle of China.

“They practice a very different vein of magic in the East and South. But here.” Draco’s finger moved south a bit more, and Harry could see a tiny trail of pulsing points march until they stopped in the middle of the smudge. The image froze there for a moment before the dots returned to march across the picture once more. 

“We don’t know what’s going on, but Armistead says those dots had Disapparated from Scotland to Romania the day after the war. He thinks they’re leftover Death Eaters that went to Asia for cover from the Ministry. And they’ll want to recruit me soon.” Draco laughed drily. “Death Eater’s son. Easy, right?”

Harry pushed the photograph and the letters away, his head spinning. “Why are you telling me this?” asked Harry. “Why now?”

Draco rocked back on his heels, looking at Harry with desperation in his eyes. “Because I needed to tell _someone_ ,” he answered. “Someone needed to know. It’s Armistead’s secret, but I just had to.”

Harry’s heart thudded loudly and rapidly. “You trust me that much?”

“I suppose.” His lips twisted in an attempt at a smile. “Evidently, the feeling isn’t mutual.”

Sudden guilt weighed on Harry like a stone. “I do trust you,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have told you the things I have if I didn’t.” He grabbed Draco’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing Draco to meet his gaze. “Wouldn’t be sleeping with you if I didn’t trust you.” He leaned in and kissed Draco’s lips softly.

Draco rolled his eyes. “You think kisses can solve everything?”

“I’m right, aren’t I?” retorted Harry, leaning in again.

*~*~*

Between the new information about old Death Eaters’ activity and the N.E.W.T.-level teachers’ assignments, Harry’s mind scarcely ever rested during the day, making his nights with Draco even more important. The shagging felt different now; there was a heightened level of tension and fear, though it melted away when they lay gasping afterward. Sometimes they talked about the remaining Death Eaters, but more often than not, they lay pressed against each other in silence until both fell asleep, keeping away the other’s demons.

The night before they left for holidays, Harry lay in Draco’s bed, his legs wrapped around Draco’s.

“I don’t want to shag tonight,” said Draco, kissing Harry’s shoulder. “I want to stay like this.”

“Okay,” said Harry quietly, pressing his forehead against Draco’s chest and feeling his heartbeat. “I don’t know if I can sleep without you.”

“I highly doubt Molly Weasley would take kindly to seeing me in her home,” Draco remarked. 

“Probably not,” Harry murmured sleepily, his eyes sliding shut. “You’ll let me know if something happens?”

“I will.”

When Harry woke the next morning, Draco and his trunk were already gone.

After a hasty breakfast, he, Ron, and Hermione took the Hogwarts Express back to King’s Cross. Hermione planned to take a taxi to Heathrow and head to Australia—“My parents were really very angry with what I did, but Muggle real estate’s so complicated that they’re staying for now”—and Harry alternated between looking at the ceiling and the floor as she and Ron kissed their farewells.

Molly and Arthur went to pains to make the Burrow as lively as it was before, but Fred left a hole that they could not fill. Harry often found himself glancing out the window, unintentionally searching for an owl bearing Draco’s letters. None came. 

Harry supposed he should be grateful that Draco had no problems to report, but at the same time, he couldn’t help wishing that Draco would write him _just because_.

*~*~*

When he saw Draco on the first day back from holidays, shuttered and haggard, Harry knew something was wrong. Draco looked up and met his eyes in the common room that night with heightened fear and worry in his eyes, and Harry had to fight the urge to run to his side.

“I told you to write me if something happened,” said Harry that night between kisses pressed to Draco’s mouth, nearly angry. “What’s going on—”

“I couldn’t sleep. They’re back and they wanted me to join,” said Draco, his voice tight with tension as he stripped Harry’s clothes off. “I—they sent me a letter and a Portkey to them. They were waiting for me to answer.”

“You said no.” Harry’s hands shoved Draco’s pants down, exposing his erect prick.

“Of course. I sent the Portkey back.”

They didn’t speak for a long time after that, except for each other’s names, as Draco took Harry frantically, weeks of frustration and tension poured into this act. Harry’s legs wrapped around Draco, holding him close, and his fingers dug into Draco’s shoulders. Draco’s hand wrapped around Harry’s cock and stroked it in the way he knew Harry liked it best, quickly making him a quivering, moaning mess.

It was over very quickly, and Draco rolled to the side and flopped in Harry’s bed, exhausted.

“They came through Russia and Ukraine and Prague,” he confessed weakly as his eyelids slid shut. “And then they got to France and I was so afraid. I wish it were all over.”

Harry’s hand wound itself in Draco’s hair, stroking it and tugging it gently. “You don’t have to be afraid,” he said. “I’m here.”

“They’ve left. They’re in Sweden now. But they’re not really gone.” Draco breathed, shuddering. “They’re never gone.”

“I know,” Harry whispered, pressing his body along the length of Draco’s and feeling a gentle, soothing presence chase away the buzzing restless thoughts in his mind. “But they are for now. And I’m here.”

Draco’s shuddered once more, before going limp. “Yeah,” he croaked. “You are.”

Harry fell asleep with his lips against Draco’s skin. Draco drifted off soon after.

Harry’s wand remained on the nightstand, untouched. 

*~*~*

“Get up, mate, you’ll miss breakfast if—what the fuck?”

Harry’s eyes flew open to see Ron gaping at him from behind the hastily drawn curtains of the bed. Ron’s wide eyes darted from him to a spot to his right…

Draco. Harry’s heart sank when he turned and saw Draco reaching over the edge of the bed for his underwear. The flush on his face extended down his neck and past his collarbones.

Harry sighed. “It’s not what it—”

“Not what it looks like?” Ron bellowed, his face also reddening. “What, you aren’t fucking the Death Eater? Harry, what the—”

Harry’s anger began to bubble inside him as the room fell silent. Everyone in various stages of dress and leaving turned to stare at them. “Fine, it is what it looks like, but—”

“You’re fucking insane, picking Malfoy to—”

“Shut up!” Harry yelled. The only sound following his shout was of Draco slinking to his bed and stepping into his robes. “Yes! I am insane! Happy?” He glared at Ron, who stared back stoically. “I’m insane and he’s the only one out of you all who cares to listen to me and to help me! Why the fuck do you have a problem with that?”

“Because we thought you’d’ve learned something about being betrayed by now,” Seamus spat from two beds over.

Draco left the room and closed the door with a soft _click_ behind him.

“He’s not a Death Eater anymore,” Harry fumed. He stepped out of bed to dress himself, well beyond caring about his nudity. “He’s not Lucius, okay? He’s not his father.” Harry put on his glasses and brushed past Ron, Seamus and Dean, and Neville and Justin. “The sooner you accept that, the better.”

Half of Hogwarts’ students had heard of the incident by mid-day, and nearly all by dinnertime. Draco was nowhere to be seen. Harry stewed silently on his own, pointedly ignoring a grumpily unapologetic Ron and blocking out the buzz of a conflicted student body. 

Only Luna spoke to him before he left the dining hall early to return to the dorm and to Draco. “I think you’re right,” she said simply. “We’re all different now.”

“You’re about the only one who thinks so,” Harry muttered. “But thanks.”

He shuffled up to the third floor alone, his hands in his pockets, as he tried not to dwell on the situation. Time, he decided, would solve the problem. Everyone else needed some time to see Draco for what he was and realize that he had changed.

“Early, we are,” observed John the Baptist as Harry approached the common room entrance. “Password?”

“Derivative,” Harry answered glumly, ducking inside when the portrait swung open.

The common room was dark and silent except for his breaths and footsteps. “Draco?” he called, pushing open the door to the boys’ dormitory. “Are you here? _Lumos_ ,” he added, squinting to peer through the dark.

His eyes widened when he saw the state of Draco’s corner of the room. The letters, once meticulously organized and bound, lay scattered across his bed. The lid of his trunk was wide open, its contents upended and tangled in a mess on the ground. Draco, his wand, and his coat were nowhere to be found. 

Fear knotted his stomach even as he tried to reassure himself that Draco could not have been taken by Dark wizards. Draco had the map, and no one would be able to Apparate into Hogwarts or enter it otherwise without his notice. Harry flipped through the letters with shaky fingers and stopped on two he had not seen before, dated during holidays.

_Be on your guard. Do not answer them. Do not leave with them. – N. A._

N.A.—Noah Armistead. Harry flipped to the next:

_To Draco Malfoy, Hogwarts Eighth-Year:_

_You have been chosen for a specialized revision program. Enclosed is a Portkey, which will bring you directly to the information session. We sincerely hope that, given your history, you will take advantage of this opportunity._

_Best regards,_

_A.C., Former Accredited Hogwarts Professor_

Alecto Carrow must have penned the note and made the laughable attempt to disguise the true nature of the message, which meant that she must have escaped from Azkaban and joined with the remaining Death Eaters, even rising to a position of leadership. Cursing aloud, he searched through the stack twice through, cursing again when Draco’s map was nowhere to be found. Draco would not have returned to London or Malfoy Manner on this account—it made no sense. There was only one destination he could have had in mind….

Harry ran to his side of the room and frantically rummaged through his own trunk, pulling out the Marauder’s Map. “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” he whispered, his heart beating loudly in his ears as the map revealed its contents. “Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy,” he muttered as he searched the names affixed to little pairs of feet wandering about Hogwarts. There was no _Draco Malfoy_ anywhere. 

He snatched his Invisibility Cloak and dashed out of the dormitory. A surge of adrenaline mixed with dread ran through him as he wrapped the cloak around him and ran to McGonagall’s office.

“Dumbledore,” he blurted out in front of the gargoyle. “Acid pops? Coconut ice?” The gargoyle did not move, and Harry began to feel desperate. “Fizzing Whizbees? Sherbet Lemon?” On the last one, the gargoyle stepped aside and he jumped onto the ascending staircase.

He tiptoed into the office and, seeing that it was empty, pulled off his invisibility cloak. “ _Accio_ Floo powder,” he whispered. A small jar of loose silvery powder flew at him from one of the bookshelves and he reached up to catch it. He pulled on his coat and hid the cloak inside it as he moved next to the fireplace, feeling the warmth of the flames on his face. Only then did he pause to catch his breath and steady his racing heartbeat.

If his intuition proved correct and Draco really had left so abruptly for Sweden, Harry would have nowhere to begin looking for him and the wizards who wanted him. Harry didn’t have the map. He didn’t know anything about Sweden, either. The wisest choice would be to alert the Ministry right away and try to contact Draco’s uncle Noah in order to locate him.

But he also saw Draco in his mind, charging into the malevolent dark wizards’ midst with uncharacteristically Gryffindor bravery and foolishness and taking Alecto Carrow’s Cruciatus Curse straight to the heart. Or even worse, the Imperius Curse. He could not stand back and let them take Draco, not after all that Draco had changed and tried to cast away his unfortunate legacy.

Harry scooped up a handful of Floo powder and set the jar on the floor. He threw the powder into the flames, watching them turn green and feeling them cool down.

The door to the office burst open and Harry whirled around to see Professor McGonagall freeze in the doorstep. “Potter, what are you doing?” she screeched.

“Sorry, Professor, it’s urgent.” Harry stepped into the flames and pulled out his wand. “ _Muffliato!_ ” McGonagall’s face turned to one of anger and long-suffering worry. Frantically, Harry tried to think of a destination. “Stockholm!” he blurted.

The Headmaster’s office shrank and disappeared as Harry felt himself jerked along the network, his stomach turning with nausea or nervous anticipation. At one point, he felt himself _lurch_ and yanked on both sides, suspended between two fireplaces as if he were being pulled in two, before he finally jerked to the right and stumbled out into the middle of a nightclub.

The bass thrummed beneath him as he stood and checked to make sure his wand and cloak were still with him. Taking a deep breath and glancing over his shoulder nervously at the darkened crowd of young wizards dancing and engaged in various other activities, he made his way over to the entrance, where two girls who looked like employees leaned against the counter. 

“Excuse me,” he began, willing himself not to stumble over his words when their attentions turned to him. “Could you give me directions to a—a place?”

The dark-haired girl on the right exchanged an undecipherable look with her co-worker before laughing. “‘A place’?” she repeated in lightly accented English, still smiling. “Can you be more specific?”

“I don’t know where it is, but—”

“Wait, wait,” the blonde girl interrupted, her Glamoured eyes boring into him. “Are you British, too?”

“Too?” Harry’s heart skipped a beat. “Who else has been here?”

“Another boy who only spoke English came here when we started to set up,” she answered carefully. “Blond, tall. Very skinny.”

“What did he want?”

“To take him someplace.”

Harry tried to keep from rolling his eyes. “Where?”

“I’m not sure he wants other people to know.”

“Look, I need to find him,” he pleaded desperately, his eyes darting down to her name tag. “Lena. Look, Lena, he’s…he’s my boyfriend and doesn’t know what he’s getting into.”

“You mean the Dark magic? That place reeks of Dark magic.”

“Yes. Please,” said Harry, closing his eyes. “He thinks he can get rid of him on his own. I have to help him.”

Lena sighed and muttered something to the brunette girl before stepping out from behind the counter, a thin leather jacket in hand. “I will take you there,” she said as she pushed the door open, stepping out into a small street with a few wizards still milling about under the streetlights. The stinging cold wind whipped at Harry’s face and he shrank deeper into his coat, trying to keep his teeth from clacking.

“Thank you so much,” said Harry. “Really.”

“These Dark wizards are at Lake Öradtjärnenm. You are lucky I have been there before,” she muttered and held out her arm. “I can take you there, but I must leave right away.”

Harry’s hand wrapped around her forearm, and the world distorted and whirled him about until he landed precariously close to a bush, stumbling backward against the trunk of a tree.

“Good luck,” Lena whispered before Disapparating with a soft _pop_.

*~*~*

Under the safety and scant warmth of his cloak, Harry held his breath as he crept past trees and thickets toward a break in the trees. Immediately after Lena had left, Harry understood what she had meant. Magic hung heavy in the air and weighed on him uncomfortably. His skin prickled and he winced at every breaking branch or crunching leaf under his feet, the sound magnified by his alertness.

As he approached the edge of the tree line, he could see a distant _Lumos_ charm near the edge of the lake some ways to his left, silhouettes of robed figures hovering before its cool light. The reflection twinkled from the rippling surface of the lake. Wand in hand, he moved toward the wizards as silently as he could, his heart skipping a beat as he found Draco’s tall, thin figure among them.

Harry hunched down a few metres behind Draco and waited, wishing he could reach out to touch his shoulders but restraining himself. He saw tension written in every plane of Draco’s familiar body, the rigidity in his form not from cold, but from fear within.

“We can’t trust him, Travers!” a woman’s rough voice protested. Harry saw it was Alecto Carrow as his eyes scanned the circle of seven or eight grim-faced wizards. Alecto whirled on Travers, who was sitting on the ground, seemingly unperturbed by her outburst. “He rejected us once. How can you be sure he won’t run back to his new blood-traitor friends and rat us all out as soon as he returns to that filthy school?”

“Because, as you said, Hogwarts is filthy,” replied Draco in a bored voice, only flinching slightly when Alecto’s livid gaze snapped to him. “I realized my mistake after I returned to school when term began. Hogwarts is worse than ever before, running rampant with all these—these—so many who aren’t worthy of the magic they have.”

“The magic they _stole._ ”

Draco nodded. “Right, they—they stole our birthright. I’m here to take it back.” Travers looked pleased, but Alecto wasn’t satisfied.

“I still don’t see why we can entrust this crucial mission to the brat. Likely he’ll get us all ki—”

“That’s enough,” Travers interrupted sharply. “If you haven’t noticed, Draco is the only one who can enter Hogwarts, unless you want to give entering the McGonagall bitch’s office a try.” Alecto blanched. Travers laughed. 

“Lin!” he called.

A hooded figure that Harry had not noticed before, who had blended into the shadows near the edge of the water, rose and drifted toward the circle. Up close, Harry could see the woman’s glazed eyes and slack face. When Travers held up one hand, she stopped as if she had hit a wall. He realized that she was quite obviously under the Imperius Curse.

“You will go with Draco here.” He crooked one finger and she jerked forth as if pulled by marionette strings. “You will enter the school using your best concealment. Then, you will use mind-magic to control every teacher and every child in that place. Turn those who resist against each other.”

The woman, Lin, nodded. “I can do that,” she answered, her Scottish-accented voice dry and hoarse.

“No, wait.” The man directly to Draco’s left spoke up. “If we want to make sure the Dark Lord’s commands are fulfilled this time, we can’t just control them with the woman’s ‘mind-magic’.”

Travers sat back, folding his arms. “What would you suggest, then, Jugson?”

Harry saw Jugson’s lips peel back to reveal bared teeth in a chilling grin. “Kill the three—the Potter boy and his friends. The old hag, too. Without them, no one’s going to resist.”

Draco’s fingers worked imperceptibly; Harry saw him reach for the cuff of his sleeve inconspicuously, as if twisting it in idleness. From behind, however, he could see the intricately decorated end of Draco’s wand.

“Fair point.” Travers nodded and fell silent for a moment, deliberating. “Draco, as soon as Lin begins taking over the castle, you’ll find Potter and his lot and kill—”

“I won’t,” said Draco calmly.

 _No!_ Harry clapped a hand over his mouth to keep the word from escaping his mouth. He could only watch helplessly as Travers’ head snapped up and he glared at Draco, his unshavenness and thick brows making his face even more menacing.

“I know you’re a coward, boy,” he hissed, rising to his feet and casting a long shadow over Draco, “but there’s no room for that now—”

“ _Stupefy!_ ” yelled Draco, his wand arm whipping forward in a blur. A jet of red light knocked Travers onto his back, unconscious. Lin collapsed to the ground in her billowing black robes as Travers’ Imperius Curse broke. Jugson swore and the men in the circle and charged at him with wands raised, but Draco was faster. “ _Expelliarmus! Stupefy! Stupefy!_ ” His wandwork—rather impressive, Harry thought—felled them one by one.

“ _Expelliarmus!_ ” screamed an agitated, high-pitched voice. Draco’s wand flew from his hand into the shallow areas of the lake behind him. Harry stood, wand raised from behind his cloak. Alecto’s hand shot out to drag Lin’s limp body with her as she advanced toward a frozen Draco. “Not just a coward? A traitor!” She cackled. “Lin, take him over.”

“I…can’t,” responded Lin quietly. Her eyes closed and she looked on the verge of fainting.

“Bloody bitch,” Alecto muttered. “ _Imperio!_ ” 

Lin’s eyes flew open. She climbed to her feet unsteadily and pressed her palms in Draco’s direction.

Draco suddenly crumpled and he fell to his knees, curling up in a ball. “No, please,” he whimpered, clutching his head with his hands, his eyes squeezed shut. “Make it stop! Go—go away—” He inhaled deeply and opened his mouth in a scream that struck Harry’s heart with wrenching pain, an anguished sound swallowed up by the trees around them.

“ _Expelliarmus,_ ” Harry whispered, unable to stand Draco’s cries anymore. Alecto’s wand flew from her hand and she looked down, amazed.

“What—who’s there?” she cried. “Draco, did you bring enemies here?” She made a gesture toward Lin, and Draco began writhing and thrashing on the ground, his tears shining in the light and his voice cracking from his cries. “You piece of Malfoy shit—”

Dimly, through Alecto’s verbal filth, Harry heard another woman’s terrible voice in her head.

_You need to mean them, Potter! You need to really want to cause pain—to enjoy it—_

Harry understood.

He yanked off the cloak. Alecto Carrow looked up, and her eyes widened in her fleshy face as if Harry were a ghost. Her eyes held an unspoken plea with the terror of a cornered animal and for a moment, Harry’s resolve wavered. But when Draco screamed aloud again, Harry’s wand arm was steady and he didn’t hesitate as his lips parted. 

“ _Crucio,_ ” he uttered in a voice low with cold, icy hatred. 

He could see that Alecto tried very hard not to scream. Even as her jolted with the pain of the curse and her face darkened, her teeth latched on to her bottom lip and bit down, muting her voice. She fell to her knees, covering her face with her hands as her body shook violently.

Harry lifted the curse and she splayed out on the cold ground, her lips parting as she gulped in air. Blood trickled from her lip where she had bitten down. Harry waited for her to catch her breath.

“ _Crucio!_ ” he shouted again. Caught unawares, Alecto cried out this time, a terrible sound that dwarfed Draco’s yells a moment ago. Her voice was scratchy and raw, choking out sobs and pleas that were simultaneously desperate and angry. Harry smiled as her fingernails dug into the earth, searching for some purchase in the midst of mind-shattering pain.

He dropped the curse again and Alecto heaved loud wet gasps as she rolled on to her side, her eyes wild with fear.

“ _Crucio!_ ” he yelled once more, and Alecto screamed again, her body going rigid. Her voice cracked once and went silent. A vein in her forehead bulged as her mouth remained open in a soundless cry. Harry held the curse for several minutes and only released it after Alecto’s eyes rolled back in her head and she went unconscious and limp.

“Draco,” Harry whispered, putting away his wand and rushing forward. Draco wasn’t moving and his face was wet with tears. “Draco, are you—Draco, answer me!” His trembling hands wiped Draco’s face and shook his shoulders.

“He won’t,” said a faint voice.

Harry’s head whipped up to see Lin push herself up from the ground exhaustedly, her dark eyes hauntingly empty.

“I—” Harry swallowed, feeling his panic rise up and begin to consume him. “He can’t move. Is he—”

“Calm down,” she whispered before coughing. “He’s not dead. First, you need to alert the Ministry before they escape again. He’ll recover in time, but he’s not really your priority right—”

Harry glared at her. “Draco is the reason I came here!”

“Do as I say,” Lin snapped, her voice commanding even in its thin weakness. She withdrew her wand and pointed it at the groaning men on the ground. “ _Incarcerous!_ So, are you going to get us out of here?”

Harry blinked. “Right,” he answered. Gently, he lifted Draco’s body in his own arms, half-holding and half-dragging him. He closed his eyes and pictured the nightclub in Stockholm, oblivious young wizards and music thrumming through his veins everywhere. Thin fingers clenched his other arm.

They Apparated into the club and as Harry caught his balance, he heard alarmed shouts and drunken curses as the wizards at the bar to their right leapt away from them. Some had their wands out, while others were too lost to their poisons to do anything but gape, slack-jawed. 

Still dragging Draco and feeling Lin’s footsteps quick behind him, Harry made a beeline for the fireplace, whose flames were still green from recent use. “Say exactly what I say!” he shouted over the din of the music before stepping into the flames. “Hogwarts Headmaster’s Office!”

The world zipped away into a blur again and he clung to Draco until he could see McGonagall’s office and half a dozen worried staff members outside the grate. 

“Potter!” Professor McGonagall exclaimed as they burst through the fire. “Will you please explain—”

“There’s no time,” he gasped, setting Draco down. “Death Eaters—Azkaban escapees in Sweden.” He rummaged in the pockets of Draco’s coat and unfolded the worn map, pointing at the cluster of faint points still by the lake. McGonagall squinted in undisguised confusion. “I went through the network to a club in Stockholm. There’s a girl who works there. Lena. She knows where they are.”

The flames in the fireplace flared again. Lin’s black-clad figure fell through onto the carpet and did not move.

“Did this one follow you here, Harry?” asked Slughorn, wand raised.

“She’s not one of them,” said Harry quickly. “Travers and Alecto Carrow put her under the Imperius Curse.”

At the last name, McGonagall straightened. “Horace, alert the Ministry as well as the Magical Transportation Authority of severe criminal activity. Mr. Filch, you and Potter bring Draco Malfoy and the girl down to—”

“I have to go back,” said Harry.

“You’ve gone enough places this evening, Potter!” snapped McGonagall. “Right now, I am acting on your word because I trust you. I want a full explanation shortly.” Her voice softened, but her meaning did not. “You are needed far more here.”

Harry’s eyes dropped to Draco’s slack face. His pulse was steady under Harry’s fingers. The reassuring rhythm kept Harry alive in the present. 

McGonagall’s hand guided him out of the office and down the stairs, and Harry didn’t protest.

*~*~*

The full story came out over the next few hours as Harry explained to Professor McGonagall in the infirmary, beginning with Draco and Noah Armistead’s maps and ending with the scene at the lake, sparing no details except a few personal ones in between.

“Potter,” she said after he finished, her voice stern, “it goes without saying that you made a very foolish decision that could have easily killed you.”

“Unnecessary, too,” spoke a raspy voice. Over McGonagall’s shoulder, Harry saw Lin prop herself up on her elbows on the next bed over, looking suddenly small as she grimaced with the effort.

“How are you feeling?” asked McGonagall warily as they moved to her bedside. “Er—who are you, exactly?”

“Zhong Lin, third-year at the Scotland Institute for Natural Magic,” she said, sinking back into her large pillow. “I was in China for field studies when they contacted me for a ‘master class’ in October. I didn’t know they were Death Eaters at the time. Turns out they just wanted to use my magic themselves.”

“How did they do that?” asked Harry.

“I’m not even sure. It was old magic, very dark.” She coughed. "They bound the Imperius and Cruciatus curses to the magic I harnessed. You saw what happened with the boy there, Harry Potter—it destroys your nerves and your sanity from the inside in a physiological death much more painful than the killing curse could ever be.”

“You said Draco would be all right with a bit of rest!” Harry burst out, voice shaky. “You said—”

“He will! Relax. He didn’t reach his breaking point yet.” She yawned and ran her fingers through her messy dark hair groggily. “Anyway, the bastards didn’t realize that Dark magic takes roughly eight times more energy than normal magic. I’d die trying to take Hogwarts over. But they never asked, so I never told.”

“And you would have done that anyway?” asked McGonagall softly.

“I followed their orders and planned to die shortly after I entered, so yes.”

McGonagall was silent for a while. 

“On behalf of Hogwarts School, I thank you,” she finally said, a weak smile on her face.

“Yeah.” Lin stretched. “My cousin goes here, and I couldn’t let those bastards get to her.”

“Who might your cousin be?” asked McGonagall.

“Cho Chang.” Lin looked at Harry. “She’s repeating her seventh year here. You know her?”

Harry swallowed. “Uh. Yes.” 

McGonagall cleared her throat. “Regardless, Potter, I need you to understand how risky your actions truly were. Seeking out danger—I thought were in agreement on this subject."

“His actions were stupid but turned out for the best,” added Lin.

“How?” asked McGonagall.

Lin jerked her head toward Draco’s still-unconscious form. “If he hadn’t come, that boy would be dead.”

*~*~*

Around three in the morning, the Ministry of Magic confirmed that they had taken the remaining Death Eaters into custody. At dawn, Hagrid took Lin back to the Institute, which had owled Hogwarts requesting Lin’s presence as soon as possible. They left Harry in the infirmary with Draco, who was still unconscious.

“I can’t sleep,” he had told Hagrid, who had bustled in some time before sunrise.

“But you’ve got classes, ‘aven’t ye? Yer teachers—”

“Not now.”

McGonagall ushered away a confused and helpless Hagrid. “He can afford to take one day off to rest. _Rest_ ,” she emphasized, before leaving and shutting the door behind her.

Harry could not rest. When he closed his eyes, he saw a red flash. Pleading eyes. He felt his lips form the damning words that pushed Alecto Carrow over her limit. Did Voldemort do the same to Neville Longbottom’s parents, too? 

_Crucio. Crucio. Crucio._

In desperation he began to count slowly, only to kick out in panic and gasp when he heard Draco’s scream echo in his ears. 

After that, Harry resigned himself to staying awake indefinitely.

Despite the shock of the night before and the heaviness in his limbs now, an uncomfortable, palpable energy surged in his stomach, making sleep impossible. Every time he looked at Draco’s closed eyelids, his heart jumped a little harder—whether from anxiety or something else, he didn’t know. Eventually, he sat on Draco’s bed by his feet, still watching his face vigilantly.

Around noon, Ron and Hermione burst into the infirmary.

“What were you thinking?” cried Hermione, hardly sparing Draco a glance. “Running off on your own like that? Why didn’t you tell us?” She looked on the verge of angry tears.

“You could’ve gotten killed, mate,” said Ron more quietly. “It’s not your fight anymore.”

“I used the Cruciatus Curse on her,” said Harry.

“What?” asked Ron.

“On Alecto Carrow,” said Harry, looking down at his hands. “The Cruciatus Curse. She was killing Draco. I cursed her for a long time.”

Hermione looked troubled but reached out to touch his shoulder comfortingly. “It’s—well, really, it’s no one’s fault but her own,” she said quickly. “Theirs, too. Professor McGonagall told us—we know you had no idea what you were up against—“

“You don’t understand,” Harry whispered, clutching his head between his hands and squeezing his eyes shut to hide the light, the sounds, their voices. “She was wandless and I did it anyway.” 

He drew his head down to his knees. “I tortured her, and it felt so good.”

*~*~*

Long after the sun set, Draco stirred and opened his eyes.

“Hhh—,” he choked out when he saw Harry.

“Here,” whispered Harry, taking the glass of water from the nearby table and holding it to Draco’s lips. 

Draco drank the entire glass. 

“How long has it been?” he asked when he finally pulled away, wiping his lips with the back of his pillow-creased hand.

“Just a day,” answered Harry. He reached out and grasped Draco’s hand, smiling when Draco grinned weakly and squeezed back. “Just a day since you were almost killed by Death Eaters.”

Draco sighed. “Yes, that.”

“Why the f—”

“You heard what they said about me,” said Draco calmly. “If your friends think I’m still bad, it’s unreasonable to be with you. For real, and not just to fuck around,” he mumbled.

Harry decided to slide into bed beside him, arranging his body so that Draco’s head rested comfortably on his shoulder. “You’re telling me that you almost got yourself killed because Ron and Seamus were idiots.”

Draco stared up at the ceiling. “I suppose.”

“You’re lucky I followed you.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t die.”

Harry rested his chin on Draco’s light blond hair. “I used the Cruciatus Curse on Alecto Carrow.”

“Did you?” Draco hummed noncommittally.

“She was killing you,” Harry muttered. “It’s the first time I’ve actually _wanted_ to use it. I can’t stop thinking about how I used it so easily. I did it three times…she was screaming so hard, and I kept going. Because she was killing you.” He let out a shaky laugh. “Three ti—”

Draco reached up and dragged his head down to kiss his lips, silencing him. Harry, who hadn’t realized how rigid he was with memories and fear, relaxed into Draco’s mouth and touch. Draco tasted like salt and exhaustion, but he didn’t care.

When Harry pulled away, he felt as if a weight had been temporarily removed from his chest. Draco smiled a little.

“Perhaps I bring out the worst in you,” suggested Draco.

“Worst, or best, or something,” said Harry softly. “I’ve never—I couldn’t even make it work for Bellatrix, and I hated her. But Alecto—you—it just doesn’t make sense. It’s absolutely mad.”

“Hmm. Well, you know what they say,” said Draco softly, “The best love is insane.” 

“Is it?” asked Harry, his voice low and serious. “Love?”

“Maybe.” Draco smiled tentatively in return.

He drew Harry close again.

**Author's Note:**

> Please return to [LIVEJOURNAL ](http://hd-hurtfest.livejournal.com/)to leave a comment there. Feel free to leave a comment here, too. :)


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